


A Bittersweet Time

by redbrunja



Category: Whiskey Cavalier (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-06
Updated: 2020-12-06
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:13:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27911314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redbrunja/pseuds/redbrunja
Summary: This mission was almost like having Christmas off.Needless to say, Will was delighted.Frankie... didn't hate it.
Relationships: Will Chase/Frankie Trowbridge
Comments: 5
Kudos: 13





	A Bittersweet Time

This mission was almost like having Christmas off.

Needless to say, Will was delighted. Frankie... didn't hate it.

For the past eight months, Standish and Frankie had built a deep cover for Frankie; a British ex-pat arms dealer. Frankie traveled to the right countries, was seen at the right soirées, talked to the right people.

Former FIS agent Ivanna Sokolova had stolen 3 suitcase nukes and then vanished.

Frankie's cover had made reservations at a Swiss hotel. Shortly thereafter, Standish had monitored the hotel's reservations as Sokolova made reservations for her and her devoted boytoy, and then hacked the reservation system and made sure her room was next to Frankie's.

Now all that Frankie and Will were supposed to do was visibly indulge in all the winter entertainment available, and pretend that they didn’t notice that they were being watched.

They raced down the ski slopes (Frankie won four out of seven runs), they sipped bourbon by the fire. They dined at the hotel's restaurant for dinner (three Michelin stars). Frankie let Will convince her to view the Christmas lights and listen to the children’s choir sing carols in German and French, Frankie stuffing her fingers in Will’s pockets when they got cold. Will let Frankie convince him to fuck loudly in their canopy bed, banging the headboard so hard against the wall it left dents.

Their third morning in the chalet, Frankie and Will slept late. It had started snowing hard last night and continued through the morning. There was no need to be seen on the slopes when only the most dedicated skiers would be out. They’ll head down to the dining room for lunch, but for now, they were sprawled in bed, facing opposite directions, going through the newspapers that the staff had brought up with their breakfast.

Frankie sipped her coffee, perusing a German language paper. Will was working on the Thursday New York Times crossword puzzle, absently running his thumb across the ball of her foot. Growing rapidly bored with a report on the revision of some zoning rules in Berlin, Frankie set her paper aside. She circled the scar on his calf, the hair on his leg rasping under her fingers, and then she climbed into his lap.

"Good morning," she said, sliding her hands over his chest, tracing the delineations of his muscles, the barely perceptible scar from the second time she'd shot him, careful to graze him, to make sure there was blood on the floor but that he'd be able to come after her.

"Hey," he responded, tossing his paper aside, tilting his head up so she could take his mouth. She did, thinking about the scars she'd left on Will. They'd probably outlast her presence in his life. A bittersweet thought; but Frankie had always found Christmas a bittersweet time.


End file.
